


you're my jewel

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, jonas brothers songs as flirting, kevin hayes is so tired, travis konecny is a disaster bi, writing someone songs as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Travis has fallen in love with the guitar playing regular at the coffee shop where he works, Grit's. What he doesn't know, though, are whether the feelings are reciprocated or not.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87
Collections: Flyers Fic Exchange 2020





	you're my jewel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/gifts).

> thank you bee and jewel for reading this! y'all are the real g!
> 
> title of story (and story) based off the song [jewel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zvbn3jjxFhE) by adam melchor.

When the semester started, Travis didn’t expect to be working at some bougie ass coffee shop. I mean, could you imagine camo wearing, duck hunting, country loving Travis Konecny working at a little coffee shop where they play indie covers of pop songs as background music?

But when Travis took a look at how much debt he was going to be in after college, he decided to go job searching. He’s a perfectly capable man. He can find a job and stick to it during college. 

Besides, Grit’s isn’t all bad. There’s the shift leads that taught him the ropes, Kevin and Oskar, and sometimes he’ll get to take home donuts or cookies for himself and his roommate Ivan. He’s even getting the hang of making those korean whipped lattes. 

“Yo, kid,” Kevin says, throwing the hand towel at Travis’s head as he’s spooning the coffee into a cup of milk. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

Travis looks up and sure enough, the cafe regular is walking in the door.

Nolan is… interesting, for sure. He’s about twelve feet tall, all legs and long brown hair pulled back with an undercut. Nolan likes to sit outside and play guitar, write in a notebook, and scroll on his phone, probably pretending that he’s actually working. 

Nolan likes cinnamon spice cappuccinos, extra whipped cream. Nolan sometimes indulges in a sweet tooth, eating a slice of lemon cake. Nolan has a very low, rumbly voice that probably sounds wonderful when he’s singing.

Not that Travis thinks about it that much. 

Travis rolls his eyes, the back of his neck flushing as he glares at Kevin. “He’s not my boyfriend, asshole.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise?” Kevin grins. “Do tell, please. Communication is important for a healthy relationship.”

“He’s–– we’re not in a––” Travis makes to defend himself but Oskar, bless him, has already steered him into the kitchen. 

He sighs, thankful for the moment of peace he has before Nolan completely ruins it. 

“Everything okay?” A deep voice says from behind the counter. Travis looks over his shoulder, and sure enough, it’s Nolan, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his guitar case slung over his shoulders. Travis turns around so quickly, he spills the coffee he’d spent the past five minutes whisking.

“Uh! Gimme like, five seconds, shit.” Thanking god for slip proof sneakers, Travis dashes over to get a mop to clean up the mess. 

“I can come back if now isn’t a good time.”

Travis looks up to apologize, to tell him that if he just gives him thirty seconds, and _oh my god where’s Kev,_ but he sees the amused smile on his face and Travis relaxes. 

“Sorry, I just––”

“No, it’s okay, you’re clumsy, I get it.” Nolan’s actually smiling now, a little quirk of his lips that sends Travis’s heart into overdrive. 

“Ha, ha, ha. Funny,” Travis says, though he smiles in spite of himself. He rests the handle of the mop against the back counter and turns towards the register. “Now. What can I get you today?”

“I’m offended you don’t know my order by heart yet,” Nolan says lightly.

“Nolan, I see at least a hundred people during my shift, and that’s if we don’t have a rush,” Travis says, but puts in a medium cinnamon spice cappuccino, extra whip and a slice of lemon cake anyway. 

“You do know my order!” Nolan says, smirking. “Does that mean I’m your favorite customer?”

“Nope,” Travis says, willing his cheeks to not flush. “That just means I’m a good barista.”

“Says the latte you spilled back there.” Nolan’s eyes flick behind him and Travis gasps playfully. 

“See if you get any extra whip. That’ll be four thirty-seven,” Travis says. 

Nolan rolls his eyes and swipes his card. “See if you get a tip.”

“Ooh, touchy,” Travis says. Nolan’s cheeks are flushed pink; Travis wants to rub his thumb over the blush. “Your cinnamon abomination will be right out.”

“Mhmm.” Nolan says, walking away. “I don’t need my receipt.”

Travis takes a look at it before throwing it on the skewer. 

He left a two dollar tip.

God, Travis is so fucked.

\---

Statistics is Travis’s worst class. At best, he’ll probably finish the class with a C, with attendance and class participation keeping his grade at a passing level. His brain has almost completely shut down as soon as the class lets out. 

He sighs––he can’t get out of there fast enough. Travis belatedly thinks that he can probably swing a burrito from Chipotle before his shift that afternoon. He pulls out his phone to text the store groupchat to see who wants lunch, knowing Kevin’ll chew him out if he doesn’t get that disgusting abomination they call queso. 

He’s in the middle of drafting a text, cutting through the lawn to get to his car when he bumps into something–– or, rather, _someone_, and falls head over heels over their shoulder. 

“Jesus!” A low, vaguely familiar voice shouts. Travis takes a moment to completely assess his situation–– no broken bones, no bruises other than a bruised ego. 

“Oh my god, I’m so––” Travis begins, looking up to see Nolan, curled protectively over his guitar, which, like, fair. Travis did like, almost break him. “Nolan?”

“Yes?” Nolan asks, a quirk of an eyebrow shows that he’s at least okay, if not a little more than mildly annoyed. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. Not like you’re invisible, I’d never say that, I just mean like, you know. I should’ve been more careful,” Travis says, cringing inwardly. God, he sounds lame.

“I didn’t know your clumsiness extended beyond the coffee shop, but you know. Guess we all learned something today.” Nolan smirks, just a little bit, to break the monotony of his voice. 

“I was just on the way to lunch. Do you maybe wanna join me?” Travis asks, because Statistics 201 has apparently shut off his brain to mouth filter. 

“I’m in the middle of working on a song right now,” Nolan says, looking down. “That you’re… sitting on, actually.”

“Wh–– _oh_. Oh, I’m sorry, bud. Lemme just,” he says, rolling over on the grass to give Nolan his journal back. 

“Gee, thanks,” Nolan says, but he smiles anyway. Travis crosses his legs in an attempt to make the space between the two of them wider after realizing just how close together they are. 

It takes him a moment before he talks again. 

“What’s the song?”

“Hm?”

“The song you’re working on. What is it?” Travis asks, picking at the grass stuck on his jeans. Nolan looks down, reaching over the body of the guitar to straighten out the paper in the notebook. 

“Something,” Nolan says, shrugging like he’s trying to be mysterious. He pulls his hand back, caressing his thumb over the intricate rose on the corner of the guitar. He’s not looking at Travis, looking at anything but Travis actually.

“It’s a love song, isn’t it?” Travis asks, smiling mischievously. 

Nolan looks up, his cheeks flushed a dark pink. “No.”

“It totally is! Wow, didn’t know you could feel an emotion other than vague annoyance,” Travis says, though he feels sort of sick at the thought of Nolan performing a love song. 

“No, no. I feel a lot of emotions. My annoyance is just saved for you specifically,” Nolan says, rolling his eyes. 

“You love me,” Travis says, because that’s what friend acquaintance bros do, right? Bro homo is a completely valid reason to say that. 

“Sure, buddy,” Nolan says, but he’s not looking at Travis. 

There’s another lull in the conversation before Travis nudges Nolan. “Well?” 

“Well what?” Nolan asks, sounding more than vaguely disinterested. 

“Play some,” Travis says. “Let me be your hype man. Let me help you get the girl.”

“I–– uh,” Nolan flushes, breathing out some aborted version of a laugh. “Not quite.”

“Oh!” Travis says, trying to sound like Nolan didn’t just completely ruin his life completely. “Well, still. Let me help you get the guy!”

“It’s not finished,” Nolan says. “The words aren’t working. I’m an english major. You’d think I’d know how to make words work.”

“I don’t need the words. I’ve just seen you lug around this guitar every shift, and I’ve never actually heard you play anything.”

Nolan laughs, getting in position to start playing. He breathes in, and starts plucking at the strings. And it’s…

Fucking gorgeous, like, insanely gorgeous. It’s simple in the way that it would work beautifully as an acoustic song, but it’s easy to build upon to perform with a band. 

Travis cranes his neck to look at the words that are supposed to be some semblance of lyrics. 

_Diamonds are forever, I’ve got something better. All the precious metals are just roses without petals next to you. _

_Jewel. ?????_

There’s a coffee stain on the bottom corner of the page, a ring of a coffee cup over the penned words. This page has been well loved, words crossed out and written over, erased, rewritten and erased again. He looks up and sees Nolan looking up at the sky, his plucking having slowed down considerably from its fast pace.

Travis has a moment of weakness where he indulges in the gooey caramel feeling in his stomach, noticing that Nolan’s eyes look like sapphires. 

“You’re my jewel,” Travis says, a little soft and way too genuine for his comfort. 

“Travis,” Nolan says, stopping the plucking abruptly. “That’s… genius, actually.”

Travis gives Nolan a small smile, choosing to ignore how the caramel has hardened and shattered.

That song is going to be used for someone else, of course. Why would it be for him?

“Glad to be of help,” Travis says. “I should actually just–– my shift.”

“I’ll probably come in for sustenance later,” Nolan says, the flush on his cheeks moving down his neck. 

“I’ll look forward to it.” Travis smiles, getting up off the ground.

He tries his hardest to not run to his car.

\---

“Kiddo,” Kevin begins as Travis kneads at the bread. “You’re acting as if you’re on death row.”

“It’s nothing,” Travis says, folding the bread over in his hands and spreading more flour on the counter.

Kevin sighs. “What’d he do now?” 

“Who?” Travis tries to feign innocence. 

“Your boy. What’d he do?”

“I ran over him.” Travis sighs, leaning his head forward.

“You _what_,” Kevin asks, turning Travis towards him. “Is he okay? Is he in the hospital?”

“What? No? I walked into him and somersaulted over his shoulder after class.” Travis scrunches his eyebrows together.

“Oh, oh my god, okay. So he’s not dead. Continue,” Kevin says, turning back to the cookie he’s icing. 

“He came out to me.”

“And? Isn’t that a good thing?” Kevin asks.

“He’s writing a love song.”

“So he’s got his eyes on someone. Maybe someone he leaves incredible tips for,” Kevin says, waggling his eyebrows. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I didn’t ask.” Travis shrugs. “I gave him a line for the song.”

“Oh, bud,” Kevin says, sympathetically.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Bud, you have it so bad.”

“I know I do, shut _up_,” Travis says. “The song is about like, this person being better than diamonds and roses and pearls and his eyes looked like sapphires in the sunlight––” Kevin’s eyebrows are halfway up his forehead before Travis stops himself. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“I haven’t said a word.”

“You’ve said enough.”

“He sang it for you! He sang you a love song!” Kevin says, turning back to ice intricate lines on the sugar cookies.

“He played the accompaniment. I snooped and saw the lyrics.” 

“Not to break up this pow-wow here, but you are supposed to be working,” Claude, their manager says. “Travis, leave the dough to rise so Kevin can finish the cookies.”

Not one to piss off the manager more, Travis puts the dough in a bowl and covers it up with a towel. As he’s walking out of the kitchen, Claude pulls him to the side. 

“You alright? You know you can come talk to me at any time, right?”

Travis would rather die than admit his emotions have a hold on his job to his boss, so he nods. “All good here, cap.”

“Okay, get on the register okay? We’re around the mid afternoon rush, and Sanheim needs all the help he can get.” Claude smiles kindly, and Travis would give his entire paycheck and three days of overtime to stop this conversation.

“Sure thing,” he says. He makes to leave before Claude stops him again.

“Could you work Friday night? We have an open mic night once a month and I could really use the help,” Claude says in a way that Travis definitely knows isn’t a yes or no question. 

He nods. “Of course, G.”

Claude smiles, patting Travis on the shoulder. “Alright. Go out there and help Trav, okay?”

\---

Travis likes his college campus, like. A lot. Which is something to say for the amount of money he’s paying for his education, but…

The campus is _really_ pretty.

He’s just finished his management class and has a couple hours before his next class, and he should really be getting back to his dorm to study but…

The sun is shining and it’s so gorgeous out, he has to take advantage of the nice weather before it starts to rain again. 

He’s glancing over the lawn where he could park himself to relax, maybe take a nap, when he sees Nolan, diligently working on something. 

Maybe it’s his song. Travis smiles. Whoever it’s for, he hopes they love it. Nolan’s really putting a lot of effort into this. 

Travis walks over and plops down in front of him, smiling widely. “Hey.”

Nolan looks up and looks him up and down, smirking. “I didn’t know we hung out outside of the coffee shop.”

Travis shrugs. “You’re not getting rid of me now after the heart to heart we had yesterday.”

“Oh, was that what that was?” Nolan asks, turning to tune his guitar.

“That’s what that was.”

“I barely said anything.”

“Yeah, but your _eyes,_ man. Whoever you’re talking to, you’re head over heels for them.” Travis grins. 

“Like you, yesterday?”

“Don’t change the subject. Have you played them the song?” Travis urges. 

“It’s not even finished yet.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate whatever you have. I know I did,” he says, a little too genuine for his own comfort. 

Nolan looks down, and Travis gets that butterfly fluttering feeling in his belly. He likes making people smile, likes making people feel good. 

He likes knowing that he made Nolan feel good.

“I’ve put it down for a day. It’s not getting the cute factor I want it to have.” Nolan shrugs.

Travis raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were worried about being cute.”

“I’m not. I’m worried about the song not having the like,” Nolan begins, sighing. “Ugh, okay. You know those girls on youtube with the dots under their eyes and the cute hairstyles and the weird hipster clothes that make them look like a grandmother?”

“Never in my life, no.” 

“Okay. Lemme rephrase. Tik tok.” 

Travis knows where he is now. “Great song by Ke$ha.”

“The app.”

“Ke$ha has an app?” 

Now Travis is really confused. 

“Oh my god. The app Tik Tok with the videos.” Nolan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I thought that was vine.” 

“Longer videos.”

“Oh, those videos on Twitter? You could’ve said that.”

Nolan looks like he’s about to commit murder, but it’s hindered by the fact that he’s holding back laughter. 

“Anyway,” he begins. “I saw a cover of Introducing Me from Camp Rock 2 and I thought I should learn it to try and figure out how to make my song more… musical.”

“Dude, it’s the Jonas Brothers,” Travis says. 

“You know what I mean. It’s a song in the movie for two people who barely know each other for a chance to let the guy introduce himself so she can fall in love with him.” Nolan flushes dark. 

“Okay.” Travis lays down with his head pillowed on his backpack. 

“Okay?” Nolan asks.

“Serenade me. Make me fall in love with you.” 

Fuck.

“I mean like–– I’ll tell you if you emote enough for the guy to get what you’re going for,” Travis says in a desperate attempt to salvage the last part of his dignity.

Nolan, god fucking bless him, doesn’t comment on it. He shrugs and begins to play.

Now, Travis isn’t a musical connoisseur, by any means. He listens to country music. That’s it. 

But Nolan’s plucking strings while he strums the guitar, and that looks… really advanced. Travis thinks if he tried he’d probably break the entire guitar out of frustration.

The song is whimsical, and… cute. It fits Nolan in a weird way, because on average, when Travis has seen Nolan, he’s exhausted, grumpy, and surly. 

This Nolan is funny, and talented, and handsome. 

However, the lyrics aren’t what Travis remembers them being. 

“_I like it when the moon shines in the morning, and I love you when you say my name,_” Nolan sings, looking down at the fretboard like he’s afraid he’ll miss a chord and Travis suddenly can’t breathe. 

“You rewrote the words,” Travis says. 

There’s a flush on Nolan’s cheeks like he knows he’s been caught, but Travis doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed. 

Nolan goes into the chorus and Travis feels like he’s soaring, mostly because he was right. Nolan’s voice is incredible. 

Secondly, he’s still snarky as anything.

“Didn’t know you knew the song.” Nolan raises an eyebrow, smirking before he goes into the next verse. 

It goes double time, and then triple time and Nolan’s looking at him so fondly, smiling when he’s not singing and he must be so in love with this person. Travis is stuck on the idea of actually being sung to, and he’s just––

He’s so fucked, he’s so fucked. To be looked at like Nolan’s looking at him, the person must be the luckiest person in the world. 

\---

The rest of the week passes quickly. He’s got a chem test he wishes he’d studied for Friday morning, but all in all, it’s a good day. 

And then he gets to work. 

He walks in, and it’s like, jam fucking packed. He normally takes Friday nights off because he’s decompressing from the week, but he couldn’t say no and it’s really only ‘til eleven o’clock. Everything’ll be fine. 

He walks behind the counter and punches in, letting Claude know he’s there, and when Claude looks up, he’s got a stressed look on his face that Travis isn’t used to seeing on him. 

“Thank you so much for coming in,” Claude says. “Tonight’s one of our busiest nights, and we’ll probably be okay, it’s just that it seems like everyone near the campus comes to these nights. I’m talking standing room only kind of stuff.”

“I didn’t know we were that popular,” Travis says.

“We’re not,” Claude says. “One of the performers is, though.”

“Oh, cool. So the cafe will be full of groupies,” Travis says, rolling his eyes. If he has to deal with eighteen year olds who think a twenty four year old indie singer is the hottest shit ever, he’s going to have to ask for overtime.

“You’ll live,” Claude laughs, not assuaging him at all. “Go get set up on the register, I’ll be right there with your drawer.”

It’s a good hour of steady taking orders, one after the other, before anyone actually gets up behind the microphone. She’s really good, singing a song about love lost yesterday. 

Now that Travis thinks about it, she might be singing a Beatles song. 

“Do we know if there’s a sign up sheet or anything?” Travis asks in a lull, handing off the order to Kevin. 

“Nah, we just let the people who are there do their thing. Makes for an easier time, lets more people get up and perform,” Kevin says. “Your boy’s a hot commodity around here, though.”

“Ooh, ten dollar word right there, Kev,” Travis says. “And he’s not my boy.” 

Kevin snorts. “Yeah, okay, give me like one good reason as to how you know that.”

“He hasn’t asked me out? And he likes someone else. He’s writing them a song.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Kevin asks, smiling the crooked smile that only pops up when he knows something Travis doesn’t, like when he forgot about the dough proving that _one_ time.

“What, what are you not telling me?” Travis asks, putting a cup of ice in the blender. Milk, three squirts of vanilla. Making coffee is almost second nature now. This, however. This _feelings talk_ with his shift manager isn’t. 

“Nothing! I just don’t think you see how he looks at you,” Kevin says. “To everyone but you, it’s kind of obvious.”

“If it was obvious, we’d be together by now,” Travis says, turning on the blender, much to the chagrin of the performer.

“You never know. Maybe the song is for you.” Kevin shrugs.

Travis snorts. “I’ll pay you ten bucks if it is.”

“Solid deal. Go take his order,” Kevin says, nodding over to the other side of the counter, and he’s right. There Nolan is, with his stupid backwards hat, and his guitar case and his ripped jeans.

Travis likes him so much it hurts.

“Come to spectate the competition?” Travis asks, walking over and scaring Nolan.

He jumps, almost knocking over his guitar, turning around to smile at Travis. “Something like that.”

“Oh,” Travis says, leaning forward on his forearms. “Is he here?”

“Maybe,” Nolan says. Travis knows he’s trying desperately to sound chill, but his smile gives everything away. 

“He’s gonna love it,” Travis says. Yeah, it might hurt, but Nolan deserves to be happy, and that’s what makes him happy.

“I hope so,” Nolan says. 

He orders a water and goes to sit down, and Travis almost forgets what’s going on, stuck in the lull of making order after order. 

And then it’s Nolan’s turn. 

He walks up onstage with his guitar, sits on the stool and flushes as he leans into the microphone. “This is for someone who I’ve come to know over the past month and a half. He actually helped me with the song, so. He’s pretty special.”

Travis drops the drink he’s making. He looks up and Nolan’s smiling at him, and oh, there’s that caramel feeling again. 

“Easiest ten bucks I’ve ever made,” Kevin says, nudging Travis to the side to clean up the mess. “Listen to the song.”

The song is gorgeous and wonderful and incredible and Travis can’t keep his eyes off of Nolan. Jewel had been about him?

Nolan finishes the song to applause, none louder than by Travis. He walks over to the counter after, a soft smile on his face. “So?”

“Oh my god, me?” Travis says softly, walking out from behind it.

“Yeah, you, dumbass.” Nolan runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the knots. “I like you kind of a lot.”

“Well, good, because the feeling’s incredibly mutual,” Travis says, smiling. “Do you wanna, maybe, get dinner after my shift?”

“Aren’t you staying til’ closing?” Nolan raises an eyebrow, smiling. “I need only the best late diner pancakes.”

“I think I can make that happen,” Travis says. He feels giddy, like he could conquer the world. “But I’m gonna kiss you first.”

“I’d like that,” Nolan says, his cheeks flushed this wonderful pink, a color Travis has specifically associated with Nolan now. 

He leans in, brushing his lips over Nolan’s cheek. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but I’ll see you later okay?”

Nolan smiles and nods, walking to sit down. 

Travis walks back over to Kevin, taking out a ten and handing it to him. 

“Thank you,” Kevin says, stuffing the bill in his pocket. 

Travis rolls his eyes, trying to feign annoyance, but really, he’s just super happy. He’s got the boy, a song, and he’s surrounded by good friends. 

What could be better than this?

**Author's Note:**

> here's what happens when nolan comes in when travis isn't working. Nolan's close with Kevin and he just comes in for.... no reason
> 
> Nolan: heyyyy kev. sup?  
Kevin: he's not working today.  
Nolan: i- pfft. i'm your _best friend_. i love you.  
Kevin: sure. How's that song going?  
Nolan: i hate you.


End file.
